Finally a Bride

by McDonough, Vickie;

  She couldn’t help noticing the crumbs on his lips. He licked them, probably realizing she’d caught him, and then grinned, turning her insides to the consistency of hot grits. “Uh … yes, put that on the buffet.” She followed him into the dining room, as if he couldn’t do such a simple chore on his own.

  “How come there’s a big pot of beans and a smaller one?” He leaned against the buffet, looking as comfortable as if in his own home.

  His broad shoulders, wide from lifting crates of freight for years, filled out his white shirt. He’d already removed his black string tie and had stuffed it into his pocket, leaving a tail hanging out. His skin was tanned from years of driving wagons across the rolling hills of northeast Texas. Though she couldn’t quit looking at the man, she knew him to be a rogue and a joker. She’d never truly been attracted to a man before. The men she’d known had never been the trustworthy sort. They tended to have three things on their minds most of the time—food, drinking, and women.

  So, why did he weigh so heavily on her mind? Why had she dreamed about him last night?

  When she didn’t respond to his question, his blond brows lifted. “Oh … the extra pot. It seems the reverend can’t tolerate pork, so I made a smaller batch for him without the meat.”

  “Oh, yeah. I saw what happens when he eats it. Not a pretty sight.” He feigned a mock shudder. “Poor man. I can’t imagine not eating bacon, or ham, or gravy with sausage.” Suddenly he paused and stared at her. “Wait a minute. You cooked the beans?”

  “Yes, and the cornbread, too.”

  His gaze dashed to the platter on the buffet and back to her. “But I thought you couldn’t cook.”

  She shoved her hands to her hips. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Uh … well, that pie you made for Luke’s bride contest wasn’t worth feeding to the hogs.”

  It took great effort, but she resisted stomping her foot on his narrow-mindedness. “That was more than ten years ago, Mr. Corbett.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  She narrowed her gaze. How in the world could she have been attracted to this … this … “A person can learn a lot in a decade.”

  The bedroom door rattled, and Carly jumped. She hurried into the hall. Rachel leaned on the doorjamb, holding her lower belly and breathing hard. Carly felt Garrett standing right behind her. “Are you all right?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Where’s Luke?”

  “I don’t think he ever came back from investigating the mercantile theft. He wasn’t in church.”

  Rachel closed her eyes and groaned. “Find him. The baby is coming.”

  As the rain stopped, Jack slowed her frantic pace and climbed the steps of her home. Catching her breath, she looked back down the street, halfway disappointed Noah hadn’t chased after her. That would hardly be proper. He was already on the mayor’s bad side, and chasing after a woman would get him fired, for sure.

  And she would regret if that were to happen.

  A glimmer drew her attention, and she stared down muddy Main Street where puddles of water glistened in the brilliant sunlight that had chased away the storm clouds. Looking upward, she gasped. A rainbow stretched over the town, almost as if God had sent her a prism of promise that things would work out. But just what things, she wasn’t sure.

  Would she get that Dallas job she wanted? Would she figure out what the mayor was up to? Would Noah kiss her?

  She dropped into a rocker, stunned at her train of thought. Where had that idea come from? She didn’t want to like Noah, but there was an odd connection with him that she’d never experienced with another man—almost as if they’d known each other for years. And they had similar pasts. Only someone who’d suffered such ill treatment from a parent could understand how she used to feel. In fact, she suspected, his life had been far worse than hers.

  She undid the laces on her mucky high tops and started loosening them. Her ma would have a fit if she tracked mud on her clean floors. She set them beside the rocker nearest the door then reached for the knob. The door flew open in her face, and a startled squeak slipped out. Garrett nearly collided with her, his eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your ma! Gotta find Luke.” He ran his hand through his short blond hair, looking more flustered than she’d ever seen him. “The doctor. Gotta get him, too.”

  “What happened?” Her heart pounded. Had her ma burnt herself or gotten cut?

  Garrett’s face blanked for a moment, and then he said, “The baby’s comin’.”

  “Oh!” Her heart leapt. “Move out of the way, and let me by.” He turned sideways in the doorway, and she slipped past him. She swatted a hand in his direction. “Go! Get Doc Phillips, and find Papa.”

  “I’ll go for the doctor.” Noah stood in the doorway, his hair flattened with dampness.

  She nodded. “Go! Both of you.”

  Garrett grinned. “Have you found the women in this house to be uncommonly bossy?”

  Noah grinned, but Jack didn’t have time to analyze what that did to her insides. She had to get to her ma. Her stockinged feet padded down the hall to her parents’ room, and she peeked in. Her ma sat on the side of the bed, eyes closed and breathing hard. Sweat ran down her cheek. Emma played quietly with her dolly on the far side of the bed, oblivious to her mother’s toiling. Carly bent and wiped Rachel’s face with a cloth.

  Jack nibbled her lower lip, hating to see her mother in pain. “Ma, are you all right?”

  “Ha!” Rachel rubbed her hand across the front of her stomach. “Ohh, sure.” The oh sounded more like a moan than normal speech. “I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I just love being in pain like this.”

  Jack lifted a brow. It wasn’t like her ma to be sarcastic. Maybe her pain was worse than with previous childbirths.

  Sitting down beside her, Jack took her ma’s hand and held on to it. “What can I do to help?”

  “Make sure the kids eat dinner. Then put Emma—oh—” Rachel gritted her teeth, and her whole body seemed to tense. She clenched Jack’s hand so tight Jack thought some bones might break. Carly backed up against the wall looking frightened half out of her wits. Evidently she’d never attended a birthing, either. “Here comes another one.”

  “Another what, Ma?”

  “Birth … pangs. Ahh!” She leaned her head back and moaned. “I don’t know … if I can … do this again.”

  Jack couldn’t help smiling. “You don’t have much choice at this point.”

  Emmie patted her mother’s back. “It be all wight.”

  Rachel tucked in her chin and growled a long grunt. “I’m too old … for thi–sss.”

  Jack sat there, allowing her ma to hold her hand and wondering what it would be like to carry a baby. What if it were Noah’s child? Heat flooded her face, and she was glad her ma was so busy or she surely would have noticed. Jack glanced at Carly to see if she’d noticed the blush, but she was focused on Ma. Jack mentally berated herself. A decent young woman doesn’t think of such things.

  Carly handed the cloth to Jack. “I’ll see to the youngsters’ meal and get Emmie down for her nap so you can tend your ma.”

  “Oh, that was a big one.” Rachel leaned back on her hands, her face more relaxed, the birth pain evidently over. “Have you seen Luke? Anyone sent for the doctor?”

  “Garrett is looking for Papa, and Noah went for Doc Phillips.”

  Carly walked to the other side of the bed and clapped her hands. “Are you ready to eat?”

  Emmie glanced at her ma and Jack, then stood and fell into Carly’s arms. Jack was happy that her little sister had bonded so easily with Carly. Knowing that Miss Payton was here to help her ma would make leaving and going to Dallas much easier. She wouldn’t worry about her ma overdoing it as much.

  Loud footsteps sounded in the hall, and Jack stood. “I’ll be right back, Ma.”

  She nodded. “Be sure there’s plenty of hot water boiling.”

  “I will.” Jack strode out the door.

&n
bsp; Noah stood near the parlor door as if afraid to enter any farther. He rubbed the back of his neck, his brow crinkled.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The doctor wasn’t there. He’s gone out to a ranch where a cowhand got hurt and isn’t expected back until this evening. His wife was home and said she’d come over as soon as she found somebody to watch her young’uns.”

  Panic shot through Jack like a bullet. She knew nothing about birthing babies. What if she did something wrong and hurt the baby or her ma? The baby could die. Her ma could die. Her knees trembled. She steepled her fingers and held them against her mouth. Her mind seemed like a quagmire of quicksand, and her thoughts sank so fast she couldn’t grab hold of a single one.

  What should she do? She could ask Carly to watch the doctor’s children to free his wife to come and assist in the birth, but who’d watch her siblings?

  Noah gently clutched her hands and pulled them away from her face, a sympathetic expression enveloping his face. “Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours. How can I help?”

  His calm demeanor soothed her frenzied nerves. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never witnessed a birthing and have no idea what I should do.”

  “Has the doctor’s wife delivered any babies?”

  Jack nodded. “I think so. I’m sure she’s assisted her husband before. She has to know more than I do.”

  Noah pulled out his pocket watch. “How much time do you think we have before the baby comes?”

  Flinging up her arms, Jack blew out an exaggerated breath at the ridiculous question. “How should I know?”

  Noah shoved his watch back in his pocket. A deep red glow crept up his neck. “Maybe you could ask your ma.”

  Jack rolled her eyes. “Every birth is different. She won’t know.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down, Jackie.”

  His use of the unexpected nickname grabbed her attention.

  “Let’s pray and ask God for direction.”

  She started to open her mouth to tell him they didn’t have time to pray, when his hands slid down her arms, sending chills cascading across her skin and firmly locking her lips together. He took hold of her hands and bowed his head. “Father, we ask that You give us wisdom to know what to do. Help Mrs. Davis with the delivery of this child. We ask that You protect both mother and baby and show Garrett where Luke is so he can return home. Calm Jackie, and give us direction. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  He glanced up as if expecting she’d already have an answer to her dilemma, but she didn’t. God hadn’t seen fit to reveal His plan to her. She probably wasn’t worthy enough. She hung her head, but the clopping of shoes on the stairs gave her an idea. “We could ask Carly to watch the doctor’s children, and you can watch Alan and the girls.”

  Noah’s eyes went wide, and he took a half-step back. “Me? I don’t know anything about children.”

  “Well, there’s no one else to do it. You for sure can’t stay with Ma, nor would I ask you to care for children you don’t even know. It just makes sense. We’ll ask Carly to watch the doc’s kids, and you can watch ours—I mean my … uh … siblings.” Jack touched her hands to her cheeks, sure they must be bright red. Had he caught her reference to “our children”?

  He tugged on his earlobe, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I reckon I could watch them for a while. What would I have to do?” Carly and the children reached the bottom of the stairs and clumped down the hall into the dining room. Carly glanced at her and Noah but didn’t stop or question them.

  Emmie waved as Carly carried her past Jack and Noah. “I eat p’cakes.”

  “No, sweetie, we’re having beans and cornbread.”

  Emmie bounced in Carly’s arm. “Me like cor’bread.”

  A gentle smile pulled at Noah’s lip as he watched her sister. Jack wondered what he was thinking. Did he wish he was a father?

  Rachel groaned, and Jack jumped. “I need to get back to Ma. Why don’t you sit down with the kids and eat?” She didn’t wait for his answer but proceeded into the kitchen. Carly stood at the buffet, dishing up the children’s plates. She glanced at Jack, and Jack explained her plan. Carly contemplated it for a moment then nodded her head. “I’d be happy to watch the Phillips’ young’uns, if that’s how I can be the most help.” Jack paused. “Have you ever delivered a baby before?”

  Carly shook her head with vigor. “No. I’ve never even seen one delivered.”

  “Then I think the best help would be for you to watch the Phillips’ children.”

  She placed a square of cornbread on each plate and then spooned on the beans. “I can do that. Just let me eat a few bites of beans. Then I’ll run down there.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be close by in case Noah has need of me.”

  Carly’s brow lifted, and Jack wondered if it was because she used the pastor’s Christian name. “All right.”

  Jack glanced up at Noah as he entered the room. “Go ahead and eat with the children. Afterward, take them back upstairs to Alan’s room to play. Emmie may take a nap—or not, since she had one in church.”

  Noah nodded, picked up a plate, and held it out to her. “You need to eat, too.”

  “Just let me check on Ma first.” She spun around and hurried to the bedroom that she used to share with her ma—before Luke married her and moved in. Ma was still seated, wearing her day dress, but her face was creased with pain. Jack fished a cloth out of the bucket and wrung out the water then dabbed her mother’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “Will be.” She rubbed her hand back and forth across her stomach. “After Oscar comes.”

  “We should probably get you into your gown before Mrs. Phillips arrives.”

  Ma’s pale blue eyes lifted, looking right at her. Sweat dampened her face, and fatigue lines crinkled around her eyes. “Hank’s not comin’?”

  “Not for a while.” Jack offered a sympathetic smile. “But Carly’s going to go watch their children after she gets ours fed so Martha can tend you.”

  Rachel nodded. “She’s a good midwife.” She slowly stood, hunched over like a hundred-year-old woman. She kept one hand on her stomach as if holding the baby in. Jack fetched a clean gown and held it out, noticing the back of her ma’s dress was sopping wet. “Do you want me to get you a chamber pot, or is it too late?”

  Rachel shook the gown down around her legs and sat again. Jack picked up the dress and carried it to a peg.

  “No. That’s not what you’re thinking. My water broke while y’all were at church.”

  Jack dropped the calico dress as if it was covered in ticks and kicked it against the wall. She wiped her hand on her skirt. “Ma–aa! What does that mean? Are you all right? Is the baby?”

  “Calm down. We’re fine.” Rachel giggled and brushed her tousled hair with her fingers. “You should have seen how fast you dropped my dress. You’ve never been squeamish.”

  “I’m not. It was just … unexpected. That’s all.”

  “Have no worries. The dress will wash clean.” Rachel’s smile faded. She pressed her lips together and moaned, low and long. She spent several minutes in deep concentration, never screaming like Jack had heard men say their wives had, but just maintaining that eerie keening like when the wind blew beneath a closed door in winter.

  “Oh!” Ma tucked her chin to her chest. The muscles in her face tensed, and all color fled from her skin.

  Jack’s heart jolted. She dropped to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

  “Got … push–ing … urge.”

  “Push what?”

  “The baby. It’s coming.”

  “Tell me what to do, Ma.” She couldn’t do this. Jack ran to the door, glanced down the empty hall, then hurried back to her ma’s side. She needed help. “You wanna lie down? Want some water?”

  “Wait!” Rachel grabbed hold of Jack’s arm, nearly crushing it. Her mother’s eyes squeezed shut, and her teeth clenched, lips parted. Ma strained so hard her whole body shimmie
d.

  What’s wrong? Help her, Lord. Show me what to do.

  Never had she felt so helpless. So powerless. She was used to fighting for what she believed in, but how could she fight this? If she did something wrong, her mother or the baby could die. She glanced around the room. There must be something she could do. Her gaze landed on the tall stack of newspapers beside the ladder-back desk chair. Hadn’t her ma mentioned needing those when the baby came?

  Stretching out her free arm, she could just reach the pile without breaking her ma’s connection on her other one. She pulled an inch-high stack over to her, shook them open, and began lining them over the wooden floor at her mother’s feet. She kept stacking them until her ma breathed out a more relaxed breath and loosened her grip.

  “Whew! Oscar is anxious—to be born.” Her ma panted and rubbed her stomach. She leaned back on her hands. After a few moments, she finally looked up. “Good. Stack all but a few of those on the floor.” Rachel slowly pushed up from the bed and stood. “Lay the rest so they are half on and half off the bed, then cover them with those towels.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, as if preparing for the next battle. “This quilt is old, but I’d like to protect it if we can.”

  Jack snatched the faded towels from the chair seat and spread several on the bed. Her mother sat back down.

  “You want a drink?” Jack patted the damp skin on her ma’s face.

  “Can’t. It makes me sick to my stomach.” She rubbed her hand across the top of her stomach. “I didn’t want you to have to witness this.” She grimaced and ducked her head again, holding tight to the bed frame with one hand. “Hurry! Get hot water. Knife.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Go!” One brisk swat of her ma’s hand in the air set her in motion.

  Jack jumped up and ran into the kitchen, peeking through the door into the dining room. No one was at the table, although the dirty dishes remained. She prayed that Martha Phillips would hurry. Jack grabbed a bowl and ladled boiling water out of the pot on the stove. She found a clean knife and hurried back to the bedroom. What in the world was the knife for?